Condemned To Relive The Past
by Jennifer Hart
Summary: For Challenge 13 – A companion piece to “UnCovered,” set during the episode Light Sleeper. Circumstances during the case force Gibbs to relive a bad memory. Gibbs POV.


**Title: Condemned To Repeat The Past**

**Rating: PG (Mention of Violence)**

**Classification: Angst/Drama**

**Disclaimers: I don't own them – I'm just Gibbs' 4th and current wife. He told me about this when he came home from work and gave me permission to share it. (Yeah right!)**

**Spoilers: Light Sleeper**

**Summary: For Challenge #13 – A companion piece to "UnCovered," set during the episode Light Sleeper. Circumstances during the case force Gibbs to relive a bad memory. Gibbs POV.**

**A/N: This was something I couldn't resist doing after seeing how similar the grocery store looked to the one on the West Wing ep, Posse Comitatus. I figured if things had really happened the way they had in UnCovered, Gibbs would be thinking about it too. PS – I would suggest you read that story first if you haven't, otherwise this will make no sense whatsoever. Story ID is 2210796/1/ **

"The printer is out of ink again!"

The shout came from a woman, getting into the passenger side of a car down the street. I shake my head, grinning, before reaching for the door and pulling it open.

And stopping, cold in my tracks.

"_You happen to know if a Milky Way bar has red meat in it?"_

My inane words from that night come flooding back.

Stop it. Just stop it. This is DC. It's not the same store.

It just looks the same.

I stride forward, purposefully, trying to walk away from the thought. McGee sees me and hurries forward.

"Boss, did you find her?"

He intercepts me, forcing me to stop by the counter.

"_Kidding. I'm gonna buy this, and…and a flower."_

"Yeah, McGee, she's hiding in my coffee cup." I realize the words are too harsh of a response as soon as they are out of my mouth and I try not to grimace. This isn't McGee's fault I'm stuck back in this stupid place.

No, I'm not back. See, no flowers by the counter.

I've got to get away from the counter. I pull McGee to the side.

"Has he calmed down yet?" You're one to talk, Jethro.

"Uh, well, he's a little shaky," McGee answers. "But I think he's ready to talk."

"_No. It-It's okay._"

Enough.

"Min and Sun…" It's the grocer. "They are dead?" I nod and the man winces. "It's my fault. I take responsibility. I try to help people new to this country – find jobs for them, give them training classes, sometimes even loan money."

I nod, trying to concentrate on the grocer's words. "You hired all three of them to work for your catering company?" 

"I did. I would notice when Yoon was tired that her accent would change. Sometimes she would use words not common in my country since the war." Mr. Sung starts towards the counter. Reluctantly, I follow him.

"_No, how much is it?"_

"_You can go."_

"Yoon Suk Dawson wasn't South Korean?" I manage to ask.

"I began to believe she was from the North. Perhaps a spy?" Out of the corner of my eye I see a movement and everything in me goes numb.

"_Don't move at all, I'm a federal officer. Don't reach, I'm Secret Service, you know you'll never get there."_

It's McGee, who has moved so that he's standing just behind me. He and Mr. Sung are talking, but I can't concentrate on what they're saying. I'm too busy watching the grocer as he walks down that aisle.

"You shouldn't get down on yourself. A Secret Service agent walking in in the middle of an armed robbery – that's just bad luck." 

"She was trying to protect her cover," McGee's words jerk me back to the present again, along with a few hundred responses.

"She failed," I say. No, I failed.

"This is Donovan. I need NYPD at a Korean grocery at 98th and Broadway. Sir, I hate to be a problem customer, but if I don't get a Milky Way bar pretty soon…" 

That does it. I have to get out of here.

"Mr. Sung, thank you for your help." I practically shove my card into his hand. "You think of anything else, you give me a call."

Later that night, I stand in my basement, running the plane over the wood for all I'm worth, trying to force away the memories. Walking outside. Seeing a short-haired blond coming towards me. Feeling myself speed up as I try and move a little faster towards the vehicle. Seeing the blond getting closer. Everything in me tensing up and freezing. The blond stopping at the black car behind ours and opening the door. Hearing McGee's worried, "Boss – what is it?" Watching, unable to move as the blond drove away in a black convertible.


End file.
